Death of the resurected
by saikoro8.9
Summary: Death, torture, pain, and Voldemort. could you ask for more? A look at Tom Marvolo Riddle's true past. Enjoy and review!


Disclaimer; which I forgot to put in earlier;

I do not in any way shape or form own Harry Potter or any of the characters from the J K Rowling's books. I own only a few new characters that I have added for this story. Well, that's about it. Read and enjoy.

Oh, be sure to review, I have to know if ya'll want me to keep writing. Constructive criticism is welcome too. For instance, I thought it stunk because... Specifics are appreciated.

Chapter one: the boy who died

Rain pored down on the village of Corner Ridge Britain. It had been raining hard over all England for months, over six, flooding the whole country side with sewage water. Canaber Holch, the caretaker at "Sir Griffin's Orphanage", clamed it was a bad omen. At the moment, however, Tom Marvolo Riddle was worried neither about the weather, nor the consequences it might have for him or the world at large. He stood in one of the orphanages large open courtyards encircled by several jeering faces. Rain dripped from his nose, hair, and the tips of his fingers as he stood with his feet spread apart on the muddy ground, his dark eyes blazing with anger as he gazed at the monstrous face in front of him. The face belonged to Samuel Perch. At fourteen, Perch was easily a foot taller than the ten year old Tom Riddle and twice as broad in the shoulders.

Normally Perch spent his time terrorizing the younger kids in the orphanage or showing off to any pretty girl who happened by, but his favorite victim was the teacher's pet/loner, Riddle. Tom would have preferred to be away from the crowd of laughing and pointing children, each of them a thorn in his side, but he couldn't back down from a challenge, especially when it came from his arch rival. No, he'd stay and fight, even if it would mean a split lip later.

"What did you say?" Tom's nostrils flared.

"I said," Perch puffed up his chest grinning wickedly. "Nobody wants you, Riddle. Your da left cause he couldn't stand the sight of you, and your mum died just to get away from you cause she knew what a dirty little freak you'd be."

"Better a freak than a simpleton with the mind of a baboon." Tom grinded his teeth together balling his hands up into fists.

"You've got a mouth on you, you have." Perch growled angrily. "And I look forward to shutting it." Perch sprang on Tom beating him to the ground with his fists.

Tom could hear the others cheering with every blow. He had grown up in the orphanage but had never made friends with any of them. He whished he could silence them forever, every last back stabbing one of them, but for the moment that power was beyond him. Each fist that reached its mark inflamed his rage more. He vowed there would be retribution.

"What do you say now?" Perch kicked him in the side. "Not so smart, are you?"

"Get off of me!" Tom screamed his anger reaching its peek.

Without warning Perch was thrown off of Tom, as if by some invisible force, into the courtyard wall. Tom stood to his feet, his blood stained clothes sticking from sweat and rain to his scrawny body. In spite of the stinging pain which coursed through his body, his face glowed with satisfaction as he marched across the courtyard. The crowd parted as he went by talking in whispers which barely reached his ears.

"How did he do that?"

"Perch is right, he is a freak."

"That kid should be locked up; he's too dangerous to be around normal people!"

Tom stopped for a moment and the children drew a collective breath. But instead of turning again he merely shrugged his shoulders. He was used to remarks like that. They came his way all the time. All the children either hated, or feared him, many did both. At first he had been hurt by their words, but now they mattered little. He had his score board drawn out, not a single word was left unentered. There would be a day, and it was coming more quickly than any of them imagined.

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"Been fighting again, have we, Mr. Riddle?" Canaber Holch leaned over Tom surveying his blackened eyes and bloody nose. "It would be nice if I didn't have to patch you up every day." He handed Tom a rag for his nose. "And how many times do I have to tell you to control your temper? You know the trouble you could cause these muggles, and just imagine if they found about you, about us, and the wizarding world!"

"It wasn't my fault!" Tom protested. "They cornered me! I wasn't looking for a fight!" In the orphanage, the only person who Tom had ever felt connected to was Holch. He was a pure blooded wizard whose only fault, in Tom's mind, was his affinity for muggles. It was from him that Tom had learned the truth about his father, how the filthy coward had run from Tom's mother as soon as he'd learned the truth about her. He was how Tom had first learned about wizards and his role in their world, and he was the one who insisted on patronizing Tom with every step he took. Holch was the closest thing Tom had ever had to a real father, but at times, Tom grew tiered of his rebuking.

"You didn't exactly walk away though, did you?" Holch took out a bottle of rubbing alcohol and poured it across Tom's cheek.

"Ah!" Tom pulled away angrily. "And why don't you just use magic?"

"If I used my magic just to heal a few cuts, and the muggles saw it, it would make trouble. Besides, you can't use magic to salve all your problems."

"I could try." Tom folded his arms stubbornly. "You'll see, Holch. One day I'll be the greatest wizard in the world and no one will dare threaten me!"

"Great you will be, Tom," Holch gave him a rather ominous scowl. "But I wouldn't make instilling fear your goal. Think of what you could do to help your own kind, and...and the muggles after you've trained."

"Help muggles? Why? What has any muggle ever done for me?"

Holch sighed. For years he had been trying to purge the young boy of his anger. To make him understand who and what he was and what responsibility came with his lineage, but he now felt he was failing. With every new day Tom's hatred grew. With every muggle who mercilessly teased and tormented him, his need for vengeance increased. Perhaps Holch had made a mistake telling the boy about his past, about his family, but he hadn't been able to just sit by and watch while the boy suffered. He had thought that telling Tom the truth would have made things bearable, that it would have given him a new sense of purpose, and it had, but not in the way Holch would have envisioned.

Holch let out another deep mournful breath and stood from where he had been kneeling next to Tom. "You best get to your room and dry off before dinner."

Tom raised an eyebrow. Something was wrong with Holch; he was even moodier then usual.

"Go on." Holch said after a moment's pause.

Tom finely nodded, but he kept his eyes on the old man until he had disappeared out of sight.

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At the gates of Sir Griffin's a small dark haired girl coward against the arms of a sturdy, stern looking old woman. Her eye were large with anticipation and a twinge of fear.

_So this was to be her new home. Where she would find him. _The place looked oddly haunted, not at all like you would expect a home for lively children to reside. The building was old and chilling like an accident mead evil castle. She shivered at the thought.

"Shall we go in then?" the woman said rather briskly, an impatient scowl forming across her face.

The girl swallowed hard before nodded her affirmation. She would have to get this over with sooner or later and sooner seemed better at the moment.

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Tom sat moodily at the end of a long oak dinner table holding a cloth to his bleeding nose. He look on the seen of happy infants, watching the other children in the dinning hall with indifference and spite. In the loft above him he could feel the eyes of their warden burning a hole at the base of his scull, he refused to look up. He knew they were all talking about him. If it hadn't been for him the children at Sir Griffin's would have nothing to talk about. They were all wondering what would be done about him. According to them he was a menace and he should be taken away. Something should have been done about the dangerous, loose cannon of a child, but nothing ever was.

Tom noticed Holch watching him from one of the corners. He glared back at him daring him to come up with another one of his catch fraises meant to bring comfort.

'Cheer up Tom, things'll look better in the morning.'

'Be nice to them Tom, they're only muggles after all. One day they'll understand and they'll be able to accept us, but until then we have to be patient.'

'You were given a great gift, Tom. You have power most people can't even imagine, but with great power comes great responsibility'

That was the line Tom hated the most. He would have liked to walk out into the courtyard one day, wand in hand, and show all these pathetic muggles what a freak he really was. They'd all come face to face with the wizarding world and they could accept it or not, but at least they wouldn't dare tease him anymore.

Holch shook his head cautioningly as if having read Tom's mind. Tom stood angrily from his chair causing it to fly back into the next table. Suddenly the room went silent and all eyes rested on him as he made his way out of the hall toward the courtyard.

"Stupid muggles!" Tom kicked the wall instantly regretting it as his toe started to throb.

He could still hear them talking in the next room. Why couldn't he just be rid of them?

A breeze blew through the yard whipping Tom's sleek black hair about. The rain had quelled for now leaving a fresh invigorating sent in the atmosphere. The cool night air felt good against his warm skin. As he soaked in the night, he felt his anger ebbing. At least out here he didn't have to think about any of the others. Here it was just him, the earth, and the howling wind.

As Tom looked out into the bright harvest moon, another sound came over the dim. He cocked his head to listen and heard the faint sound of someone crying in the distance.

It was probably just some spoiled rotten kid crying because they hadn't gotten what they'd wanted to eat at dinner. Tom rolled his eyes and was about to make for his room, when something stopped him. He wasn't exactly sure why, but he felt drawn to the cries. They didn't seem to be the cries of a spoiled creature.

With a shrug Tom followed the sounds in search of their owner.

He stepped soundlessly down the stone pathways, a skill he had perfected from years of hiding from pompous bullies. In the shadows of an old oak he could just barely make out a dark figure huddled against one of the stone walls.

By the look of it it was a child, maybe seven or eight. By the sound of their cries he guessed that the being was female. Just another frightened child then. He shrugged his shoulders moving to go but something stopped him. He couldn't explain it but he felt oddly drawn to this weeping creature.

Tom glared angrily at his feet as if irritated at them for not taking him away from the disgusting seen before he was forced to become involved._ Stupid muggles and their tears. Why should he care? _

He inched closer to the girl to gain a better view. Thankfully the girl ignored him completely, obviously too rapped up in her own life to even notice him. Typical.

Upon closer inspection Tom discovered her to be younger than he had at first thought. She couldn't have been older than five. Smooth locks of dark brown hair fell like a curtain over her face obscuring most of her youthful face. Her scrawny white upper limbs clutched around her boney knees pulling them tightly to her chest. A thin coat was draped over her shoulders doing a less than adequate job of shutting out the cold.

She was new then. Tom decided after a moment's observation that she wasn't among the number of children who plagued him ever day. She must have just lost her parents if she was here for the first time. The thought brought a small bit of pity to his mind before he pushed it aside. She was hardly the first among them that had lost their parents. At least her's had probably loved her. He tapped her shoulder fully intending to tell her to get over it and stop dirtying the courtyard floor with her tears. When she turned her head up to face him, however, the hateful words caught in his throat.

Her eyes were chilling. The two large globes of deep blue light shined up at him with all the intensity of a blazing fire. They were pure and wild like the sky after a storm and as deep as the very ocean. For a moment Tom found himself lost in those irises.

"I'm Amber. What's your name?" The girl jumped to her feet whipping the tears from her eyes. Tom glared at her suspiciously. "Are you here for me?" Her voice shook with anticipation. "Are you going to be my new brother?" Tom stared at the girl dumb founded as hope edged into her mousy trembling voice. "Are you my family now?" Those eyes looked up at him expectantly.

"Your family's dead girl." Tom replied sharply. "Get used to it." He tore his gaze away from her eyes now refilling with pain stricken tears, turning on his heals and making for his room.

"Why are you so mean?" The girl called after him.

"The world is mean." Tom called without turning back to look at her.

"B..but you...you're s...s...supposed to be my...my...my brother!" Amber choked as more tears flooded down her face.

"I'm not your brother kid." Tom answered stiffly. _What was wrong with him? Why was he even talking to this girl? There was just something about her that threw him utterly. There was something...special. _

After a seconds' thought Tom tilted his head back to glance at the girl without having to look into her eyes. "I'm Tom." He said simply before stalking off.

Behind him the girl watched as he stalked off, a warm smile spreading across her face. Finely she'd found him.


End file.
